


Fruit of the Poisonous Berry

by Jaina



Category: Longmire (TV), Walt Longmire Mysteries - Craig Johnson
Genre: Angst, F/M, Feel Good Fun Times, Romance, Tropes and Things, holiday fic, season 4 fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 21:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5555825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaina/pseuds/Jaina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What will happen when the Ferg decides some Christmas decorations are in order and Walt and Vic end up under the mistletoe? Post-Season 4 Fix-It.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written to the soundtrack of Clare Dunn's "Move On" and "Tuxedo" and Ellie Goulding's "How Long Will I Love You" if anyone's interested.

Ferg had been stirring around the office all morning while Vic tended to the paperwork she’d gotten behind on over the past week. She had been doing her best to ignore him and focus, but it was hard not to notice that Ferg had disappeared into Walt’s office five minutes ago, shutting the door behind himself, and hadn’t come out yet. It had peaked Vic’s natural curiosity. They didn’t have a case at the moment and things had been quiet, almost as quiet as when Vic had first come to Durant. The handful of drunk and disorderlies from the casino were annoying but easy enough to deal with. Walt hadn’t even left his office for them, another similarity to when she’d first started working for the Sheriff's office, and why she was currently finishing up the paperwork for them. It was still her least favorite part of the job. 

 

Walt’s familiar irritated growl seeped through his office door. Vic shot to her feet. It had been nothing but irritated growls and low snarls around the office since Walker Browning had burst down the door of Walt’s cabin, gun in hand, intent on finishing what he had started on the Reservation, and caught Walt with the good Doctor Monaghan. Only Vic’s timely intervention when the hospital had notified her of Browning’s escape - and that they couldn’t get a hold of the Sheriff - had kept the situation from turning from a disaster into a tragedy. 

 

When Vic had arrived, her truck spraying gravel as she slid to a stop, Browning had his gun already pointed at Walt. As she had crept up on to the porch, Vic had heard the unnecessary click of the hammer being drawn back and hadn’t wasted any time telling him to freeze. Knowing he would take his shot the moment he heard her voice, Vic shot instead. The bullet had torn through his shoulder and Walt had taken advantage of his distraction to surge forward and slap the gun out of his hand. His eyes had flicked to Vic as she had taken in his naked form and the mostly naked woman in his bed in quick glance as she stomped forward to slap cuff on Browning. Without a word, Vic had hauled Browning to his feet, dragged him outside, thrown him in the prisoner area of her truck, and slammed the door shut. Then she’d doubled over, heaved her guts up in Walt’s front yard, gotten into her truck and driven him back to the station where she had thrown every charge in the book at him. 

 

Vic hadn’t met Walt’s eyes since and had done her best to avoid him. That sick feeling in her stomach had come back each of the few times Walt had tried to talk to her about it and she’d done her best to avoid getting cornered. Maybe it would go away in time if she ignored it and him. That was what the job was for and she was trying her damndest to do it. 

 

..which was why, as Undersheriff, she wasn’t going to let Walt take his bad mood out on Ferg. Vic pushed to her feet and took a few quick strides toward Walt’s office. Her hand had just closed over the knob when it was yanked out of her grip and Walt stormed out. Her momentum was too much and Vic slammed into him, chest to abdomen, and bounced back. Walt caught her forearm to keep her from falling and Vic flinched. 

 

“Doesn’t it look festive, Walt?” Ferg asked, sounding eager and younger than he had for a long time. “It really brightens the place up. If you liked it, I thought I could put some more stuff up. Just a few little touches here and there,” he continued. 

 

Vic followed Walt’s gaze up and saw a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them, the deep green of the leaves contrasting with the bright, almost shiny red of the berries. “What the Hell, Ferg?” Vic demanded before she could stop herself. “It’s a fucking sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen.” 

 

“It doesn’t have to be like that,” Ferg contradicted her. “It could be a friendly thing, like you and the Sheriff.” 

 

Vic winced, giving Ferg a too bright smile and bit her tongue so she wouldn’t snap his head off. It wasn’t fair. Ferg didn’t know what was going on. For that matter, neither did she, but she had gotten the message loud and clear. Walt wasn’t interested, not in her. 

 

“We could certainly use some cheer around here,” murmured Ruby from her desk, across the office, low enough that it could be ignored, but pointed all the same. 

 

“Fine,” Walt grunted. “But this place doesn’t need to look like Christmas exploded in here. This is a jail, not a nativity play.” It was the most Vic had heard Walt say in months and she barely noticed because of the way his thumb ran over her forearm as he pulled away to head back into his office. Every nerve in her body sang and Vic sucked in a sharp involuntary breath at the gesture that hadn’t been meant to feel like a caress at all. 

 

“Well, Walter, aren’t you going to start us off right?” Ruby called after him. It took a second for the words to sink into Vic’s thoroughly distracted brain. As soon as they did, her gaze flicked up to Walt’s face. He looked like a deer caught in a spotter’s headlights about to be shot, a combination of horror and uncertainty that made her guts clench. She would not be sick, not here and now in front of everyone. Their eyes met and gazes held so she saw the exact moment he made his decision. 

 

“Uh, okay, I guess,” Walt answered Ruby, as he ducked his head and tilted his cheek toward Vic, leaving the final decision up to her. 

 

It was such a fucking Walt thing to do; she wanted to punch him square in the shoulder. For a moment Vic considered pushing him away and retreating to the safety of her desk. She wasn’t exactly known for her good cheer, so it wouldn’t be out of character for her. 

 

Walt’s fingers twitched at his side, tucking into a fist and then slowly opening back. It struck Vic in an instant that he was nervous too, and she acted. Her heart sank into her stomach as she rose on her toes, intending to peck him on his stubbled cheek and then march back to her desk head held high. Instead just as her lips were about to touch his cheek, Walt turned his head to see what she was doing. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth instead of his cheek and Vic caught the faintest hint of his lips, soft and a little chapped amid the faint scrape of stubble, against hers.

 

Vic drew back like she had been shocked and stumbled away, her heart pounding. Her first instinct was to touch her lips, tingling with the roughness of his stubble and burning with the barest brush of his lips against hers. She caught herself on the edge of her desk and straightened instead. She had a reputation to maintain. She couldn’t look like a schoolgirl with a crush in front of the people she worked with. Pushing away from her desk, and ignoring the looks that Ferg and Ruby were no doubt giving her, Vic made a beeline for the Reading Room. She needed a minute without anyone staring at her. She couldn’t look at Walt. She didn’t even want to know what he thought. She just….needed a minute. 

 

***   ***   ***

 

“Go away, Ferg,” Vic snapped in response to the knock on the Reading Room door, as she leaned over the sink. She probably needed to apologize for her negative response to his Christmas cheer. He was trying, after all, and that was something no one else in this office was doing, except maybe Ruby. But Ruby tended not to interfere except for the occasional comment, preferring to let them sort out their own problems. 

 

The door creaked open and Vic whirled to face Ferg, ready to give him a piece of her mind for not respecting her wishes and stumbled back against the sink in surprise. 

 

“I'm not Ferg.” It was the tone of Walt’s voice more than anything else that startled her. He didn't sound angry. Just the opposite, his voice was calm and gentle, a tone he hadn't used with her in a very long time. 

 

“Shit, Walt,” Vic breathed, holding her hand to her heart. “You scared the crap out of me.” It was the truth. She could feel her heart racing beneath her palm. “What are you doing in here?” Anger was good. Anger was what she needed. Walt was the last person she wanted to see right now, not when the merest brush of his lips against hers brought back that sick feeling in her stomach and the knowledge that whatever she had thought lay between them wasn't really there. 

 

“Vic…” Walt said her name the same way he had spoken a moment ago, a soft caress of sound that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn’t fucking fair of him to talk to her that way, not when he had made the boundaries of where she stood in his life so very clear. She was on the outside and he was with Doctor Monaghan. That was that. 

 

Or not. Vic thought, questions spinning wildly on the tip of her tongue. There was barely any space between them as it was in the tight confines of the Reading Room, but what little distance there was was eliminated when Walt took one step forward and then another until she could feel his belt buckle pressing against her stomach. “What the fuck, Walt?” She meant to demand it but the words came out far softer and breathier than she’d intended. 

 

Walt opened his mouth to speak and then shook his head. He raised his hand and brushed her hair back behind her ear. His skin was rough and dry and sent a small tug of pain through her scalp when her hair caught on his callused fingers. It was the last thing Vic noticed before Walt bent his head toward her and pressed his lips against hers. She jerked back in surprise - kissing her was honestly the last thing she had expected him to do - but he followed her warm and insistent. One hand came up to curl around her hip and pull her closer while the other cupped her cheek. 

 

The kiss was rough and deep, slipping his tongue in her mouth and nipping at her lower lip. Vic’s hands came up to brace against his shoulders and she relented for an instant kissing him back, letting herself forget everything else but the way he felt, the way he tasted, the way he made her head spin with just one kiss. Her fingers curled into his shirt until she was clenching it so tight her knuckles ached. 

 

One large hand slid from her hip up to the curve of her ass and squeezed, running up her back, brushing over the curve of her breast and pressing her full against him.  Then she pushed and shoved him away, breaking the kiss as roughly as it had began. Her body ached for his touch as soon as his hands had left her and she stared at him for one wild moment, taking in quick sharp breaths. 

  
Everything hung in the balance, the air charged with tension. Anything was possible. Then Vic took a step forward and pushed past him, slapping the door open with both hands and striding out into the main office. “Ruby, I’ll be out on patrol until I go off duty. You know how to reach me.” She shouldered her go bag and strode for the door without looking back. She’d had enough of looking back. Vic wouldn’t make that mistake again. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post this in three parts, but decided tonight to break the second part into two. I liked the flow better. I'll post the rest of what have been part two tomorrow night!

It was late when Walt strode up the steps of his daughter’s porch and pulled open the screen door to knock. Garland dripped from around the door frame and white lights outlined the porch. He wondered when they had put the lights up; his assistance hadn’t been sought. Vic’s police truck was parked in the yard on the opposite from Cady’s small beater car, so he knew she was home. It had taken him some time to work up the nerve to show up here and longer still to make it to the door, but eventually he had. 

 

“Hey, Punk,” Walt said, summoning a smile for his daughter as she opened the door. “Vic home?” It was a rhetorical question, but she hadn’t opened the door to let him in, just held it open enough to speak to him. 

 

“Hey, Dad,” Cady said, slipping out the door and underneath his arm to stand beside him on the porch. She managed to pull the door behind her without giving him a glimpse inside. It was a neat trick. Cady danced back and forth on the icy porch in her socked feet, her arms crossed over her chest as she shivered in the cold. “Do you and Vic have a call?” 

 

Usually Walt loved his daughter’s inquisitive nature. She took after her mother in most ways, from her attitude to her looks, but Cady’s stubborn refusal to let go of a puzzle until it had been solved was all him. Tonight he wished those genes had skipped a generation. “Nope.” He waited to see what Cady had to say to that. He wasn’t ready to explain anything to her. Walt wouldn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to explain what was between he and Vic, even to himself. He nudged her elbow. “Go back inside, Punk. See if Vic will come out and talk to me.” 

 

“You think she won’t?” Cady asked, once again reading between the lines. 

 

“I don’t know,” Walt answered honestly. “I’m not asking as her boss and we haven’t been getting along real well lately.” 

 

“You know, Dad,” Cady said, taking a step back toward the door as she spoke. “I wasn’t too sure about Vic when she moved in here, but she’s been a really good roommate and friend to me.” 

 

“That’s good,” Walt said. It wasn’t like anything Cady was saying was a surprise. He hadn’t been sure how the two women would get along. They were very different people, but he hadn’t been worried. Vic was nothing if not loyal and it had made him feel better to know there was someone he could trust staying with Cady. 

 

“Yeah, but I think she’s been pretty sad about some things lately.” Cady held up a hand when it looked like he was going to speak. “She hasn’t told me anything, but I can tell. I’d hate to see her get hurt worse.” 

 

Walt wondered when his daughter had grown into this woman, willing to stick up for everyone around her even when she wasn’t sure of the situation, even when it meant standing up to her own father. He held out an arm to Cady and when she came to him without any hesitation, wrapped her up into a tight embrace. “I’m proud of you, punk,” he said, his emotion getting the best of him and reducing his voice almost to a whisper. 

 

“Thanks, Daddy,” she said back just as softly. She pulled away and patted his shoulder. “I’ll go get Vic.” He smiled as he saw her wipe her cheek with the long sleeve of her shirt as she ducked inside the door. Some things never changed. Cady had never wanted anyone to see her cry. 

 

It took long enough for Vic to come to the door that Walt had started to wonder if she would come at all. He had almost given up but he thought Cady would tell him if Vic wasn’t going to come to the door so he waited. He would wait as long as it took for Vic; he had nowhere else to be. 

 

Finally the door opened and Vic stepped out. She was dressed for the cold better than Cady had been, wearing sweatpants and an Eagle’s hoodie. The sleeve of the thermal she usually wore under her uniform shirt stuck out beneath the hoodie sleeves and her feet were shoved into her work boots, the laces dangling down undone. He caught a quick glimpse of fuzzy pink socks inside the boots and wanted to grin, but didn’t when he saw Vic’s face. 

 

Walt held out the six-pack of Rainier’s in his hand. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Vic took the beer, but let the hand holding it fall to her side without even looking at it. “For what?” 

 

There was no doubt the question was a test, one he had to pass if he wanted to stay. “Hurting you.” 

 

Vic’s eyes flicked up to him, burning a bright tarnished gold that he couldn’t read. She stepped past him, clomping in her boots, and dropped to a seat on the top porch step. Without a word, she took a beer from the pack, popped the top and took a long pull from it before she set it down beside her, pulled out a second one and held it out to him. It was more of a reprieve than Walt had expected and he took it gratefully. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as Vic had been when he sank into a seat on the step below Vic’s, leaving them eye to eye. His long legs sprawled out in front of him as he watched her. 

 

“What do you want?” Vic finally asked, hunched over against the chill of the wind as she tucked her hands into her armpits to keep her fingers warm. “Why are you here, Walt? I thought you’d made yourself pretty clear about where I stood with your personal life.” 

 

Walt winced and looked out over the road - anywhere but into Vic’s eyes. He could lose himself there, but now wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry for that too. I was out of line.” 

 

“It’s your life,” Vic said dismissively, like it meant nothing to her. He could hear the pain behind it though, and hated himself for doing that to her. 

 

Walt owed her an explanation, but talking had never been his strong suit. He took a moment to gather himself, taking a swig of his beer more for something to do than any real desire to drink. “I felt like crap that day when you asked me what I was doing with Donna because…” He took a deep breath and forced himself to keep going. “Because I was scared to death when you weren’t married any more. All of a sudden you were available, Vic, and I didn’t know what to do with that. You scared the shit out of me.” He looked down at his hands. “The last time I courted a woman computers weren’t around.” 

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Walt could see Vic’s face. It was wired with tension as several thoughts warred on her features. He could tell when one finally won out, when Vic looked over at him with a pained, too-bright smile. “Well, if I’m so fucking scary, don’t let me stop you. I won’t bother you again.” She laughed and it was as bitter as three day old coffee on his tongue. “But you fucking kissed me this morning, Walt. That wasn’t me and you know it. I didn’t follow myself in there.” 

 

“I know,” Walt said. “I’m sorry.” He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words spilled out of his mouth and Vic shot to her feet, wavering for an instant to catch her balance and then stomping toward the door. “Vic, wait,” he blurted, following her and managing to slip in front of the door long enough to slow her down. 

 

She folded her arms over her chest and eyed him dangerously. 

 

Walt slipped out in front of the door, hands held up. “That’s not what I meant.” He licked his lips and tried again, knowing he wouldn’t get another chance. “I shouldn’t have kissed you at work. It wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking. That’s what I’m apologizing for.” He shook his head and took a step back, despite every instinct within in him screaming to get closer to her. “That kiss, Vic… you barely touched my lips and it was like I was on fire. I had to hold you and kiss you. I haven’t felt like that in twenty years.” If ever. It was impossible to put into words what that kiss had done to him. It hadn’t erased his doubts about them, but it had ignited a spark between them, made him burn for her in a way he couldn’t deny. 

 

Vic wasn’t moving toward the door anymore, but she was still eyeing him warily. “So what do you want, Walt? To go back to your place and fuck?” She dropped the words so calmly that it took him a moment to process them. 

 

“No. I mean, yes, but… Vic.” He took a deep breath and tried to way his body had stood to attention at her words. “I’m your boss.” He shifted awkwardly in his boots, pulling his hat off his head to clutch it in his hands. Was he just imagining the sweat at his brow? It shouldn’t be possible in this weather, but if anyone could make him sweat in the middle of a Wyoming winter it would be Vic. “And I’m in the middle of this wrongful death suit with Barlow’s estate… I can’t afford to make a mistake right now.” 

 

Vic nodded, looking down and refusing to meet his eyes. “You know, when I met you, I thought you were different from any other man I’d ever met.” She spread her arms wide. “But even with you, I’m still Vic the Holy Terror, a scary mistake. Some things never change.” She pushed past him toward the door and this time he didn’t make a move to stop her. He wouldn’t try to take her choices away from her, but Vic stopped when she’d pulled the screen door open and her hand was on the inner knob. “I don’t know what you want, Walt. I don’t think you do either, but I know what I want. I want a life.” She let her head fall against the doorframe. “I’m so tired of having to be small to make someone else happy. I won’t do it again. I loved you, Walt, but don’t expect me to wait for you. I’m going to do whatever it takes to be happy.” 

  
She slipped inside, pulling the door shut behind her, without another word. 


	3. Chapter 3

It was a week before Vic saw Walt again, except in passing at work. She volunteered to work Christmas in an effort to avoid any joyous celebrations of light and love. She wasn’t in any mood to spend time contemplating the last year and where her life outside of work stood. To her surprise Walt took the day off to spend with Cady and Henry. It made her even more grateful that she had decided to work. She didn't think she could handle spending Christmas with him, being included but not on the inside. 

 

Dutifully Vic called her mother early that morning and let Lena give her an earful on why she hadn't come back to Philly for the holidays. She even exchanged a few sentences with Vic the Father, Christmas being one of the few days of the year he took off if he didn't have an open case. They were almost civil. Unlike Lena he didn't harangue her about coming back to Philly - he understood why she had left - but he did spend some quality time on why her current job was beneath her and she should make an effort. Vic hadn't bothered to try to explain. 

 

By the time Vic got off shift, it was late enough to be early. The soft glow of Christmas lights still illuminated Cady’s small yard, but there were no cars or trucks left outside. Presumably all presents had been distributed, edible delights consumed and Christmas cheer imbibed before everyone had gone home. 

 

Vic was glad to have missed it. Her heart ached too much for her to even consider acting festive around Walt. She couldn’t imagine sitting across from him and having to be civil and appropriate, pretending like nothing had happened between them. She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her body and his lips claiming hers at the most inappropriate moments. If she blushed at one more odd moment when she was around Cady, the Greatest Legal Mind of Our Time was going to think something was wrong with her. 

 

Slipping in the door as quietly as she could to keep from waking Cady, Vic almost dropped her keys when she saw Cady sitting on the couch, tumbler in hand and a decanter of whiskey on the coffee table in front of her, as she stared into the soft glow of the fireplace. Gas flames flicked gently inside instead of the real logs that Walt’s fireplace boasted. Vic tried not to think about it, but the comparison came unbidden. 

 

“Shit,” Vic breathed pressing her hand to her chest and feeling her heart thudding rapidly beneath it. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.” She tossed her keys down onto the table by the door and slid her bag off her shoulder, letting it fall to the floor with a thump since there was no longer a need to be quiet. 

 

“Vic,” Cady acknowledged her sounding distracted and barely lifting her eyes from the fire. “I was just thinking. I guess I lost track of time.” 

 

Vic dropped onto the opposite end of the couch from Cady and bent to unlace her boots. “Sounds like heavy thoughts,” Vic said, giving Cady a chance to speak before she looked back up. 

 

There was a slight pause and then Cady leaned forward, untucking one leg to grab the bottle of whiskey off the coffee table and refill her tumbler. “My Mom,” Cady said. “I was just thinking about… remembering her… thinking about other Christmases with her and Dad.” 

 

“You miss her,” Vic stated the obvious as she finally toed her boots off and reached for the bottle of whiskey. Cady had set it back down closer to her end of the table in clear invitation. 

 

“Yeah, I do,” Cady laughed, a sound whose cheer was muffled by a choking sob that broke off abruptly. “Dad always worked Christmas, you know. As long as I can remember.” She glanced over at Vic with a confiding smile. “Mom hated it. Henry would always come over, but it just wasn’t the same. There was this one year though. We had a freak blizzard - it was much worse than we were expecting. Dad got snowed in and one of his deputies had to take his shift. There was no way he could get out to take any calls.” 

 

“I bet he was pissed,” Vic said, leaning back into the soft cushions and allowing herself to start to relax as she imagined it. She knew how pissed she would have been herself. She could only imagine how Walt had felt about it. 

 

“He was at first,” Cady agreed. “But then he just kind of relaxed and went with it. 

 

Vic snorted. “Walt going along with something like that is hard to picture.” 

 

Cady flashed Vic a smile. “I think he realized how happy it was making Mom to have him there, as grumpy as he was being. She always said it was her favorite Christmas.” 

 

“Now that I can see,” Vic said with a nod. “The job sucks for families.” 

 

“Is that why you-” Cady bit her lip and looked apologetic. “Sorry. I always get nosey after a few drinks.” 

 

With a casual wave, Vic dismissed her apology, and arched an amused eyebrow. “Why my marriage crashed and burned?” Her lips twisted into a pained expression. “I was lucky, I guess. Sean traveled so much for his work, he was gone as much as I was. He hated it when he came home and I wasn’t there, though. He’d get so pissed. It’s not like I could tell the shitheads to take a day off from killing each other.” 

 

“No,” Cady agreed. “I didn’t always get it as a kid, but now that I’m older,” she shrugged. “It makes sense. I’m proud of what he does and he’s always tried his best to make time for me.” She smiled at Vic, her grin starting to look a little sleepier now, not coming as quickly. “What about you? Isn’t your dad a cop?” 

 

“Sure,” Vic said, with a feral grin. “Chief of Detectives North, Vic Morretti. But he barely paid attention to Ma, much less us kids. I don’t think he really looked at me until I graduated from the Academy.” 

 

“Wait,” Cady said, pushing herself up straighter on the couch. “You’re a Junior?” 

 

“Nope, that would be my older brother, Vic the son.” Vic was grinning now; it wasn’t the first time she’d had this conversation. 

 

“Wow,” Cady shook her head. “Just wow.” 

 

“I think it’s why I tried so hard with Sean. I didn’t want to be like  _ him _ . I didn’t want to fail.” Vic cleared her throat as she contemplated what she was about to say next. Even now thinking about Gorski could make her taste the thin coppery taste of terror at the back of her throat, but she’d already confided things in Cady that she hadn’t said out loud to anyone else. She might as well go all in. “I was, uh, going through some pretty rough stuff when Sean and I met and I think maybe I wanted us to work more than we actually did.” 

 

“That’s a tough one,” Cady agreed, but she didn’t sound like she was judging Vic for the admission. She took a quick sip of her drink, smiled bitterly and added, “And it never seems to work out.” 

 

“Branch.” Vic said, knowing immediately where Cady’s thoughts had gone. 

 

“Branch,” Cady admitted, then shrugged and slumped back against the couch. “I don’t know what I would have done if he’d…” She stumbled for words. “If he hadn’t…” 

 

“Yeah,” Vic said, stopping her from fishing for more words it would be impossible to find. She let the silence after that linger for a moment as her thoughts drifted to Branch and the past year. It had been hard enough feeling responsible for another man’s death, but every time she thought about his death now the image of Walt with the shotgun in his mouth flashed horrifyingly in front of her eyes. Walt had been so wrapped up in the investigation that day, Vic didn’t think he had had any idea - then or now - how terrified she’d been that day and still was when she remembered that moment. “I don’t want to make that same mistake again,” Vic said softly. “Trying to force something that isn’t right because I’m scared.” And maybe that’s all it was. Maybe she had imagined all the moments between she and Walt. Maybe she hated being on her own and was trying to latch onto the only friendly male face in this shithole of a state who didn’t bore her. Or maybe she loved Walt and he didn’t give a shit about her. Probably that one. 

 

Cady’s laugh startled Vic and sounded a little too cheerful. Vic wondered how much of that whiskey she’d had before Vic had come in. “You never sound afraid.” 

 

“Practice,” Vic said succinctly. “I’ve never been as scared as the day I found you in that ditch.”

 

Cady’s glass hit the coffee table too loudly. “That was you? I never knew.” 

 

“Yeah,” Vic nodded, digging at the cuticle of her thumbnail with another nail. “I was pretty freaked out when I realized it was you, but I knew the job. You have to put it aside. Do the steps and it gets you through.” 

 

“You saved my life,” Cad said, staring at Vic like she hadn’t seen her before. 

 

“Hardly,” Vic protested. “I just made Ferg send an ambulance and kept talking to you until they got there.” Vic swallowed unable to remember it without the echo of the fear she’d felt that day returning. “I  _ really _ didn’t want to have to tell Walt that…” 

 

“Oh, God,” Cady said, getting it immediately. “No, that would have been horrible.” 

 

“Yeah,” Vic agreed, but it wasn’t something she wanted to think about anymore. The emotions of the day simmered at her fingertips and she didn’t want to go back there again, not after the week she’d had. “But it’s too fucking depressing to sit and think about this shit. Neither one of us has to be up in the morning for work. Let’s get drunk and listen to music too loud and have a dance party.” 

 

Cady giggled and sort of lurched toward Vic’s side of the couch, sprawling out across it more than she had intended. “Okay.” She stretched her arm out further, pointing toward the mantle. “But maybe you should open your present first?” 

 

Vic grinned. “Seriously? You got me a present?” She asked, glancing back over her shoulder at Cady as she crossed the room to grab the small, gold gift box off the mantle. 

 

“Not me,” Cady said as she laid her head on her arm and burrowed down into the couch, tugging a throw up around her shoulders. “It was Dad.” 

 

Vic froze, about to pick it up. “No.” 

 

“Mmm,” Cady hummed her confirmation, but the way her eyes were beginning to droop didn’t escape Vic’s notice. She didn’t think they were going to make that dance party. She didn’t know what to think. What could Walt have given her? They had never exchanged gifts before. Maybe it was just some generic gift to not seem rude or out of place if it had come up at Cady’s Christmas party, but she had never thought Walt was the kind of thing to do something just to forestall what people might think. There was only one way to find out.

 

Snatching the box up off the mantle, Vic retreated back to the couch and folded herself into the small space Cady had left for her. The box itself was a flat rectangle, both longer and wider than it was deep. The lid was made with two strips of faux ribbon that came up from the bottom in the same sparkly golden, holiday leaf pattern as the rest of the box. 

 

“He cares about you, you know? He doesn’t get a gift for just anyone,” Cady said. Her eyes never left Vic as she turned the gift box in her hands eyeing it warily before she was ready to open it. There was no judgement in Cady’s eyes, just a calm certainty that made Vic want to fidget more than anything else. 

 

“Cady…” Vic started, but how could she explain how fucked up things were between them. How could she explain that Walt didn’t really want her? There had been a fleeting attraction. She hadn’t miss read that, but feelings - those had been all her own. Anything on Walt’s part had been her own wishful thinking. 

 

But Cady wasn’t listening to her. She was laid out across the back of the couch now, her head pillowed on her arm as she watched Vic. “The last people he gave presents to besides me were Henry and my Mom.” 

 

Vic grimaced and ducked her head. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just…” she shook her head. “He didn’t want things to be weird if I was here.” 

 

Cady laughed. “Because my Dad’s highest priority is making sure that social situations are never uncomfortable.” 

 

Vic snorted and slapped a hand over her mouth. It wasn’t a very nice thought, but it was true. Social niceties and Walt Longmire were not things that went together. 

 

“Just open it,” Cady said. “And if you hate it, if it hurts, I’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you outside of work anymore.” 

 

“Cady,” Vic said turning back to her. “He’s your Dad. You shouldn’t have to get in the middle of whatever this fucked up thing between me and Walt is.” 

 

Cady shrugged one shoulder. “He’s the one who did it when he asked me to let you stay here. It’s not your fault.” 

 

“Shit,” Vic whispered. “I’m gonna kill him.” She shook her head. “I’ll move out tomorrow.” 

 

Cady lurched up unsteadily, her hand reaching out for Vic. “Hey, that’s not what I meant.” She gave a tiny shrug. “It’s kind of nice having someone around the place.” She looked down at her hands. “It’s harder to get lost in your head when there’s someone else around.” She wrinkled her nose and didn’t look at Vic. “Just open your present and forget I said anything.” 

 

Vic hesitated, unsure of whether she should press the issue or not, but to her surprise she liked living with Cady. And the real estate situation - at least for a place that wasn’t complete crap that she could afford on her deputy’s salary - was pretty dire. The lid lifted away easily and revealed a piece of cream cardstock nestled in a bed of forest green tissue paper. Walt’s familiar handwriting was scrawled across it, but in a neater form than what usually adorned his paperwork. 

 

It simply read, “Syd's Steakhouse, 8:00 PM, Saturday December 26th.” And beneath it, “Please.” 

 

Vic turned it over to look at the back and dug through the tissue paper at the bottom of the box to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. An explanation maybe? But there was nothing. Was it an invitation or a command. Vic wasn’t sure how to respond either way. She could sleep - or not sleep at all - on it, as a thousand confused thoughts tumbled through her head. Or she could go straight for the source. 

  
One quick glance down beside her confirmed that Cady was asleep. Without allowing herself a second thought Vic shoved her feet into her boots and headed for the door. It only took a moment to grab her keys and a coat. She slowed down to lock and deadbolt the door, but refused to let anything else slow her down. If she did, she might start to think or talk herself out of what she was about to do and she couldn’t. It was like she had told Walt. One way or another Vic had to get one with her life and that meant Vic had to go see Walt tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this modest fic nears its end I have a couple questions for you lovely readers. I have an idea for a fairly massive book-verse AU story, taking off from A Serpent's Tooth. Would anyone be interested in reading it? Second, and final, question, I can probably post the final part on Friday night. Does that work for everyone or would y'all prefer I wait until Monday? Let me know!


	4. Chapter Four

The full moon glinted sharp and bright against the darkness as Vic guided her truck down the dirt road that led to Walt’s cabin. She drove faster than was safe, sliding around a corner here and hitting the gas to push through there. The three quarter ton truck was responsive and despite the temperature hovering just above zero, there was was no snow or ice to make conditions really dangerous. Vic was grateful. She didn’t think she could have taken this drive slow and careful. 

 

When she finally reached Walt’s cabin, Vic turned the truck off and sat for a minute, flexing her fingers against the cold and her nerves. She bunched them into a tight ball and blew warm air into them. She had lived here for years and she still couldn’t remember to grab her fucking gloves on the way out to the door. 

 

Vic was stalling and she knew it. She hadn’t been out to Walt’s cabin since…  _ that  _ day. It looked nothing like it did now with the moon throwing long, deep shadows across the porch. It was a sharp contrast to the bright sunlight and relentless heat of that day. Now the only light was a faint glow coming through both windows. Maybe from the fire in the fireplace? It didn’t look quite right though. Maybe Walt was still up? He would have heard her truck and come to the door if he was. It was part of the job. But that meant she had to get out of the truck or tuck her tail between her legs and go back to Cady’s place without getting the answers she had come for. She could take a moment to decide or… Vic shoved open the door. Time to stop being a fucking coward. It wasn’t a good look on her anyway. 

 

As she climbed the steps to the porch, Vic gave the second step a little kick and wondered if the stain from Barlow’s blood was still there. Now, in the dark, she couldn’t tell. She had seen it when it was fresh and something about it had made her want to rip it out. But she knew shit about carpentry and after that she had been too busy running Walt’s department to think about it. The last time she had been out there she’d been a little too busy trying to keep her boss from dying to look. Maybe someday she’d have a chance to satisfy her curiosity, but Vic didn’t think it would be tonight. 

 

Stopping in front of the front door, Vic balled her hand into a fist and pounded. She had always thought they should at least have a day course on that knock at the Academy but it had never materialized. She had added it to her exit evaluation suggestion though. Vic could just imagine the rolled eyes that had gotten from the Academy Director. There were no sounds from inside so Vic raised her hand to pound on the door again. Walt’s Bronco had been parked out front so she knew he was in there. 

 

Another moment of pounding and then Vic heard movement inside. Instinctively she took a step back as the sounds neared the door. She wasn’t surprised when the door was yanked up and she was greeted by Walt with rifle in hand. Vic knew he kept it by the door. There was a frozen moment when she took in the long sleeve shirt and sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was such an un-Walt look that it threw her for a moment until her hand clenched and the crinkle of cardboard under her fingers reminded her of why she was here. 

 

Vic slapped the box against his chest and demanded, “What the hell is this?” 

 

Startled Walt fumbled to grab the falling box as Vic shoved her hands back into her coat pockets and rocked back and forth from foot to foot. She really wasn’t dressed for this conversation. “What? Vic?” A crease ran down one side of his face and Vic knew she had woken him. His brain still wasn’t functioning. “Get in here,” he said, putting the rifle down and reaching out to take her arm above the elbow to draw her into the cabin. 

 

Vic jerked her arm away from his touch, but stepped into the cabin. If she had really come here for answers then she needed to give him a chance to speak and it was too fucking cold on the porch for that. Vic tried her best not to look around. She didn’t need the memories. 

 

Walt muttered something about having a seat and turned away from her to tend the fire, taking a few of the dried, stacked logs from beside the fire and adding them to the coals. He grabbed a non-descript grey blanket from the back of a chair and threw it around his shoulders, then scooped a markedly softer and more brightly patterned one off the back of couch and held it out to Vic. “It’ll warm up in here in a minute,” he said, with a half-hearted shrug. “Until then…” When she didn’t reach out to take it, he added. “It’s Cady. I mean she uses it when she comes out here.” 

 

Vic knew why he had clarified. Apparently he didn’t want her to think it belonged to the good Doctor, but she wasn’t sure it was any better that it was Cady’s. Still it was damn cold and it looked soft. She took it and wrapped it around her shoulders, then waited. She had asked the damn question. He could answer it. 

 

Instead Walt rubbed the back of his head with one hand and turned away from her, taking a few short steps in the confines of the living room. “I, ah, see you got my gift.” He had gone to collect it from the small table beside the couch from where he had laid it down when he went to stoke the fire. 

 

“Yep,” Vic said, making sure to pop the ‘P’ in her annoyance. Monosyllabic answers were only fair play. Turnabout and all that. 

 

Walt lifted the box a little toward her like he was going hold the invitation out for her to take again. “I wanted to take my intentions clear.” 

 

Vic bit her lip and cocked her head. “Well, you didn’t. I have no fucking clue what that invitation is supposed to mean.” 

 

Walt sank down to a seat on the edge of the couch and reached out blindly to put the box down beside him, then looked up at her. For the first time, Vic realized the blank expression on his face wasn’t lack of caring, it was terror. The chill that had settled over her, the blind irritation at his mixed messages that had washed over her from the moment she had read his invitation faded. Her hurt receded and she saw the cabin for the first time. A scattering of garland hung above the windows and a Christmas tree glowed with small golden lights in the corner. The decorations were sparse, but there were a few ornaments on the tree. Several looked handmade and inexpertly so. Vic would have been willing to bet they were things Cady had made as a child. It was more than a little shocking to see the place like this. Vic would have bet any amount of money, Walt wouldn’t have wasted the time to decorate - and, apparently, she would have lost. It changed the look of things enough that Vic could glance around without that sick feeling returning to her stomach. It was enough that Vic could breathe again. 

 

“Just tell me what you meant, Walt.” She crouched down in front of the couch so that they were at eye level. She lifted the box. “I really don’t know what this means and I can’t…” Her hand trembled and she dropped it back to the couch as if it had burned and clenched her hand into a fist to hide the tremors. “I can’t keep taking chances and getting shot down.” 

 

Walt’s hand covered her own, his eyes flicking to hers seeing if she would pull away from him again. Every muscle in her body tensed, but Vic remained still and let him touch her. After a long moment, his thumb stroked across her wrist. A shiver ran down Vic’s spine and she almost broke at the familiar gesture. He had touched her in the same way that day in the emergency room after the disaster at Chance’s compound. Then that simple touch had been meant to tell her everything was okay; she could relax finally. He was there. Now… Vic had no idea. 

 

“Talk to me,” Vic said, hating how her voice broke and the tears that stung at her eye. She had sworn she wouldn’t cry over him again. Wouldn’t do this shit over  _ a man _ any more. 

 

“I love you.” The words, bald and without preamble hung between them. 

 

Startled, Vic lost her balance, landing on her butt on the dusty wooden floor. “Shit, Walt.” 

 

His other hand clasped her arm behind her elbow and with a two handed grip he tugged her up and onto the couch behind him. “I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Are you okay?” 

 

“Yeah, fine,” Vic said, brushing aside his concern. “What?” 

 

“I love you,” Walt repeated. “I don’t want you out of my life.” The warmth of his hands on her arm was incredibly distracting but Vic did her best to focus. “I know I haven’t treated you…” He shook his head. “I never made you any promises, Vic, but what I did, it wasn’t right. And when you saw, I couldn’t even look at you. I don’t know how you can stand to look at me.” 

 

“Hey,” Vic said, raising a hand to touch his cheek and then letting her hand fall away again, still worried, despite his words, that it might be more than she could handle. “I couldn’t.” A small, bitter smile quirked onto her lips as his head jerked up to look at her. “Not for a long time. It fucking hurt, Walt.” 

 

“But you stayed,” Walt said. “You didn’t leave.” 

 

Vic grimaced and looked away. “The thought occurred to me.” She shrugged. “But I’ve kind of gotten used to the way we do things out here. I mean, I hate this state most of the time. Winter sucks and the people…” she shook her head. “But there’s something about it.” 

 

Walt nodded. “It gets inside you.” He took a deep breath. “I was hoping you stayed for me too.” 

 

“You know I did,” Vic said, shooting him a look. She hadn’t given Australia or making things right with Sean a second thought from the moment he had asked her to stay. Signing her divorce papers had been the easiest thing she had done in a long time. 

 

“I… hoped,” Walt said, choosing his words carefully. “I couldn’t quite believe it.” 

 

“Believe it, dumbass,” Vic said without the slightest change of inflection. 

 

“Okay,” Walt said, a smile beginning to form at the corner of his lips. It was a good look on him, Vic decided. One she wouldn’t mind seeing more often. His thumb was stroking over her upper arm now. He couldn’t seem to hold still when he was touching her, but his touch was soothing.  Even if every nerve in her body was standing on end right now. “The invitation…” he tipped his head toward the box. “I know I didn’t go about things the right way the other day. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I wasn’t thinking about you. Again. I lost my head when I touched you and I couldn’t think about anything else.” He met her eyes. “It’s not an excuse. Just an explanation.” He raised his hand to touch her cheek. “I know what I said, but I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed of you or scared of you. There are lots of things that scare me,” he grinned as if in acknowledgement of how at odds it was with his usual image. “But you aren’t one of them. You’ve always been there for me.” He hesitated. “I haven’t always done that for you though. I want to change that. You said you want to stop feeling like you have to hold back. You want to live. I’d like to do that with you, if you’d allow.” 

 

Vic could honestly say that out of all the things she had thought the night might bring, Walt’s confession wasn’t among them. “I don’t know what to say. Walt.” She could feel the burn of tears in her eyes growing and she looked down to swipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

 

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice rough. “You don’t have to say anything. You can think on it. I know it’s a lot to ask.” His hand brushed across her cheek one last time and then dropped away. “I’ll be here.” 

 

The lost of his touch was a gaping absence, a sucker punch to the gut. Vic reached out blindly and caught his wrist, her fingers pressing in too hard. “Don’t.” 

 

Walt froze. “Don’t, what?” 

 

Vic stared up at him and blinked. “Hold me?” She needed the solidity of his presence to believe this. If she left now...she had no idea what to think. She needed him to give her a moment and just… be there with her. 

 

Without a word, Walt scooted back on the couch and held a hand out to her. Vic took it and turned to fold herself into him. She laid her head against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of his neck. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her into him, and Vic couldn’t help it, sucking in a long shuddery breath and then another until the tears ran down her cheeks. She buried her face in his neck, squeezing her eyes shut tight, and tried to focus on the way his large, rough hand stroked up and down her back in a soothing motion.

 

* * *

 

 

Vic didn’t know how long they had sat there before she raised her head. Her tears had dried on her cheeks and she was sure she looked  _ lovely _ . Walt was looking down at her, watching her, but without any expectation in his eyes. Vic raised her hand to cup his cheek, bent his head down toward her and touched her lips to his. His arm curled tight around her waist as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, capturing her lips between his and drawing back. Vic nipped at his bottom lip and grinned as he pressed his lips to hers again, never easing the hold he had on her. It was a messy kiss, broken by her grin, but none the worse for it. 

 

Her hand left his cheek and stroked down Walt’s chest, finding the “v” of skin bared by his shirt. Walt covered her hand with his, holding her there and nuzzled her cheek. Stubble rasped against her skin and Vic knew she would pay for it in the morning, but at the moment, she didn’t care. She shifted, using the hand she had on his chest to push herself up until she was straddling his thigh and looking directly into his eyes. He smiled quick and tentative, uncertainty still lingering in his eyes, and Vic kissed him again. She wanted to erase that look. Her hands dropped lower searching for the buckle of his belt. She snorted against his lips when she felt the soft thin material of his sweatpants instead. 

 

The back of Vic’s fingers grazed over his erection and he jerked at the sudden sensation. “Hello, Cowboy,” Vic drawled against his lips. “You seem happy to see me.” She drew back, a teasing grin on her lips. “Or is that just-” 

 

Walt squeezed her hips, gripping her with both hands now to steady her - and himself. “I’m always happy to see you.” 

 

Vic’s eyebrows shot up. “Always?” 

 

“You’d be surprised,” Walt muttered, ducking her head to press his lips against the side of her neck. She could feel the rush of heat in his cheeks against her skin. Knowing she could effect him like that made Vic’s toes curl. She slipped her fingers into the hair at the back of his neck and held him to her as her other hand stroked back up the hard length of him and then dipped beneath the waist of his sweatpants to take him in her hand. 

 

Walt groaned, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. “Be careful with that,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “It might go off.” 

 

Vic laughed into his ear and ducked her head in an attempt to catch his gaze. “Don’t worry,” she said as she stroked him. “I know how to handle live weaponry.” 

 

Walt let out a strangled laugh and sagged back against couch, pulling her with him. “You do.” He shook his head and opened his eyes. His hands tugged at the open edges of her jacket, then rose to push it back off her shoulders beneath the blanket. She let go of him for a minute to shrug out of the jacket, but was glad when he pulled the blanket back up around her. The fire was warm at Vic’s back, but a chill still clung to the room. His hands slipped under the thermal shirt she wore beneath her duty shirt. Vic’s breath hitched, but at the touch of his hands and at the twinge of worry that shot through her when she considered how he might react to the reminder that she worked for him. 

 

“You gonna take that off?” Walt asked with a jerk of his chin toward her. He couldn’t seem to resist and followed this motion by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the line of her jaw. “You don’t have to,” he murmured against her skin. “But I want to see you.” 

 

Vic started undoing buttons with a speed she couldn’t ever remember duplicating, not caring if they came undone or tore off so long as she could get it off. There was a brief tangle of fabric when she tried to tug her undershirt off before her duty shirt was completely gone, but a moment later she was free of both of them and Walt’s hands were gliding up her sides. The back of his fingers brushed against the words inked into her skin just below the line of her ribs, then brushed over the swell of her breast. Her nipples were visible even through her bra. Walt pressed his lips to the newly bared skin even as his fingers worked at the clasp behind her back. Vic fidgeted, thrusting her chest forward and was just about to twist around to help him undo it when it came free. He tugged the offending garment off her and let it drop beside him on the couch as he took her in. 

 

“Beautiful,” Walt said, as he cupped her breasts in his hands and squeezed. When she squirmed in his lap, he did it again and ran his thumbs over her pert nipples. Vic groaned at the sensation as Walt bent to take one into his mouth. Her back arched at the warm, wetness of his tongue as it contrasted with scratch of his stubble across sensitive skin. His hand slid around to the small of her back to hold her up even as his other hand fumbled for the button of her jeans. His teeth scraped against her nipple to be soothed away by his tongue an instant later as he tugged her zipper down and got his fingers beneath the band of her underwear. Then his hand was cupping her, his fingers stroking through her warm wetness and Vic whimpered, biting her lip to hold back the sounds that wanted to come spilling out. Then one finger and another sank inside of her and Vic gasped, shifting her weight to the side to give him better access. 

 

“Walt,” she cried, her voice breaking over his name. Her hands clenched on his shoulders to hold herself up, to cope with the sensations he was drawing from her body. Her back arched as his fingers pushed up inside her and then hissed as they withdrew. She lurched forward and sank her teeth into his shoulder, needing something to cope with the way he was making her feel. Vic didn’t beg, but, “Please,” she hissed, squeezing tighter and urging him forward, not caring how she sounded right now. “I need you.” 

 

Walt tensed and for one heart stopping instant, Vic thought she had said the wrong thing. Then Walt sat back, lifting his hips enough to shove his sweatpants down, taking boxers with them. His erection sprang up free between them. Vic couldn’t resist stroking up the length of him again, catching the bead of pre-cum on her finger. Walt grunted and tugged her closer. His hands on her hips lifted her up and Vic cooperated eagerly until she was settled over him. 

 

“Look at me,” Walt said, taking himself in one hand as she began to sink down onto him. 

 

“Fuck,” Vic swore, but did as he asked. The connection between them was electric and she couldn’t have looked away as she wanted to as she settled onto him. He was thick and hard and filled her deliciously, so full that she couldn’t stay still, squirming against him. His hips moved against hers and then the squirming settled into a rhythm, her clit pressing against him as he sank into her. 

 

Vic didn’t try to hold back as their motions grew more frantic. Her whole body was flushed with the heat of them and she had the urge to throw the blanket off, but not the concentration for it as a symphony of feeling began to grow within her. Her muscles screamed and everything ached until it didn’t and Walt was pushing her over the edge. Vic cried out and Walt fucked her through it with short, hard jerks that kept her coming long after the initial wave until he followed after her.

 

* * *

 

 

Walt stretched to kiss the top of her head and tugged the blankets up higher around them. Vic opened her eyes and squinted against the dull morning light that had begun to seep in through the windows. She curled her arms more tightly around him and refused to lift her head. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear. 

 

“I have to get ready for work soon,” Walt said, breaking the silence at last. 

 

“Yeah,” Vic agreed. She had known it was coming. She knew the schedule as well as she did, nearly memorizing it for the past week in an attempt to avoid him. All that had backfired now. 

 

“You can stay here if you like,” Walt murmured, his breath warm against her ear. 

 

Vic considered it for a moment, weighing the warmth of where they had lain against the questions Cady would surely ask when she got home about where she had been and the effort of getting up to go there. And then there were the ghosts that still lurked around the cabin, the unquiet shades of the other women in Walt’s life. If she lingered there without him would they rise up against her in her mind? She didn’t want that sick feeling to return, or some worse thought she wasn’t ready to face yet. Better not to risk it. “Another time,” she whispered. 

 

Walt was silent and Vic wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t press. She knew moments like last night’s confession would be rare. His hand ran over her hip and settled at the small of her back. Vic decided she liked the weight of it and lifted her head to rest her chin on his chest and look up at him. He tucked a strand of behind her ear and smiled. “What about tonight? Will you go out with me?” He sat up a little, almost dislodging her, and glanced around. “I think I still have an invitation around here somewhere.” 

 

“No,” Vic said, pushing herself up as Walt sank back into the cushions. She curled her fingers around his shoulders and refused to let go. “I’d rather stay in tonight.” She grinned as she tilted her head and leaned in to capture his lips. “Raincheck?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to everyone who's responded to this story! The response has been amazing from this community and I really appreciate the warm welcome. I hope you all enjoy this last part. As ever I was a bit nervous, but I hope it works.


End file.
